


Picnic

by meradorm



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Kinda PWP, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meradorm/pseuds/meradorm
Summary: My friend wanted one of these that was more tender. It starts off with a picnic...
Relationships: Joxaren | The Joxter/Rådd-djuret | The Muddler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Picnic

One day, on a particularly bright afternoon, the Muddler checked every nook and cranny of the Oshun Oxtra until he opened a steamer trunk and found the Joxter asleep inside.

"Excuse me!" he cried. He gave him an expectant look. Three buttons, a spare house key, and a flange nut fell out of his pockets, which were overstuffed today. He must be nervous. More so than usual, anyway. 

The Joxter lifted the brim of his hat, watching him with one open eye. "Is there something on your mind?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere with me..."

"Right now?"

"Yes, please. It's such a warm day. I thought we could have a picnic." 

The Joxter noticed then that the Muddler was carrying a straw basket. He didn't particularly want to get up, but the call of free food was too strong to ignore. He oozed out of the trunk onto the deck, and after some concentrated effort, managed to stand upright.

"Well, I'll get the boys - "

"No! No," said the Muddler. "I was hoping it could be just you and me, you see." He rummaged in his basket and pulled out a half-empty bottle. "I found it in my can. There's just enough for the both of us."

The Joxter smiled.

Their walk from the docked ship to the grassy hill the Muddler had spotted from far off was a quiet one. The Joxter smoked, and the Muddler began to relax, as he usually did when the Joxter was around. They rolled out a blanket underneath a tree and unpacked the basket.

"I always preferred your sandwiches," said the Joxter. "It's chickpeas this time, is it?"

"I know you like them," the Muddler demurred. 

The Joxter laughed. "I like everything."

For some reason the Muddler colored a little bit. "That's right," he said softly, "you do."

The Muddler sat on the blanket, pulling his knees up to his chin. Joxter stretched out, half on the blanket and half on the ground, propping his head up in his hand. He looked at the Muddler fondly. "Why me of all people? You could have taken your uncle."

The Muddler squirmed, and he got the feeling the Joxter was enjoying it.

"It's just I've always...you've always - taken care of me. When I was frightened or upset. And you scare me sometimes, but you're wonderful. You live the way you want to. It's like you don't feel any fear."

The Joxter lowered his head to the ground, rubbing his cheek against the grass. "Sometimes I'm afraid for you," he confessed. (He considered confessing that he was also afraid of the Hemulen's aunt, but thought better of it.)

"We certainly don't live a quiet life..."

"It's more than that. I know you have more courage than you think you do. I want you to use it. Cowards are unhappy people."

Slowly, the Muddler lowered himself down next to him, close to his face. He watched him with his bright, wide eyes.

"Can I make you brave?" the Joxter whispered. 

Before he could do anything, the Muddler took his face in his hands and kissed him.

The Joxter gave him no resistance. His eyes slid shut and he opened to his mouth to him. In a quiet way the Muddler was surprised - and grateful, so grateful - at how they seemed to ease into each other's bodies. The Muddler felt himself shift flat on the ground, and the Joxter moved on top of him. Their hands found one another's. Later in life he'd remember, more than anything else, even the Joxter's gentle mouth, the way the sunlight felt between them. 

Just then there was a rustle from the bushes a ways off, and the two of them sat bolt upright. 

"Who's there? Can you see? Is it my uncle?" the Muddler asked, beginning to pack up quickly.

"I can't see anyone. It might have been a squirrel. Or the wind." The Joxter's tail twitched. 

Their eyes met. The Muddler knew that if they didn't do something now, say something, anything, they would never do it again. Something between them would have passed. 

"Come to my quarters," the Joxter said. Every inch of the Muddler's body relaxed. 

They dropped the basket on the gangplank. The Joxter took the Muddler's hand and they scurried down the deck.

"Someone's coming!" the Muddler hissed. The Joxter yanked him around a corner, and pressed his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. The Muddler bit his lip, choking back a smile.

When the footsteps had passed, the Joxter gave him a quick kiss and they ran the rest of the way to Joxter's cabin. The Joxter deadbolted the door, and the Muddler collapsed on the bed (and then the Joxter collapsed on top of him). 

He put his arms around the Muddler, pressing his face to his neck, laughing. "You're in love with me. I didn't think you were."

"Really? I was worried it was obvious."

"I didn't think much about how you felt. I just knew I wanted you," the Joxter said. "I thought if I told you it would just scare you off. I was still happy being near you, so why bother?" 

"You want me?" the Muddler asked, in a small voice. 

"Of course I do. Why do you think we're here?" The Joxter lifted his head and gave him a reassuring kiss.

What _were_ they here for? The Muddler felt a thrill of excitement. Maybe the Joxter wanted to... 

He became very aware of the fact that he was under him.

The Joxter rested his forehead against his. "It doesn't have to be forever," he murmurs. The Muddler cupped his neck, drawing his lips back to his, again and again. They bumped noses, and the Muddler smiled.

They lay there for a moment in the darkened room - Joxter's cabin only had a very small porthole, enough to just let in the afternoon - feeling the almost imperceptible rocking of the ship underneath them in the sea. The Muddler moved his hand up under the Joxter's clothes, resting his hand on his back. His skin was warm.

The Joxter sat up, straddling Muddler, pulling off his smock. 

"You're getting excited," the Joxter pointed out. The Muddler looked up at him, sucking in a breath. He blushed.

"Excuse me! It's just that when I like someone - I just have to _have_ them!"

The Joxter grinned. "I love you too."

Then he was over him again, pulling off his clothes. He listened to the sounds the Muddler made as he kissed his neck, felt his new lover relax into his arms. He wanted to go slow, to touch him lightly, to make sure he was never afraid.

The Muddler took the Joxter's hands and skimmed them down his chest, curving across his ribs, to his thighs.

"I want you to touch me," he told him. The Joxter gripped his legs, moving down between them. He pressed a kiss to his inner thigh, then a nibble. The Muddler gasped.

"You have such long legs," the Joxter told him, affectionately, rubbing his calves. "I always liked that about you."

The Muddler slipped them over the Joxter's shoulders. He rested his head against one, smiling up at him for a moment. He moved up and kissed him, savored him, loved his wet mouth. 

"Now?" he whispered. The Muddler nodded.

The Joxter reached over him to the nightstand by the bed, fumbled the drawer open, and found lubricant. He slipped his fingers in. The Muddler made a soft, low, languid sound, closing his eyes and arching his back. His legs were still splayed open on the Joxter's shoulders, and the Joxter liked the way he felt. He liked the way the Muddler felt in general, when his body was at ease. 

He trailed kisses along his cheekbone. The Muddler sighed peacefully. He reached up and buried his hands in the Joxter's hair. "I want you to..." he said hazily, his voice dying in his throat.

The Joxter understood. Carefully, he moved the Muddler's legs back, rubbing his thighs soothingly. The Muddler was supple and young, the Joxter could have spent all day bending him. 

Instead he moved into him, into his body, gathering him up into his arms as he did. The Muddler smiled, his head arched back, his eyes shut.

It lasted for a long time. The Joxter teased him, caressed him, took everything he wanted from his body. He was the one who came first, and he grabbed Muddler's face and pressed desperate kisses into him, over and over. The Muddler felt him finish in him, and it drove him over the edge with hot, frantic breaths.

The Muddler cleaned them both up while the Joxter lay settled on the bed, close to sleep. 

"We didn't drink that stuff you brought with us," said the Joxter. 

"I suppose we didn't."

"Next time, then. If we can find the basket again." The Muddler smiled.

"Do you think anyone will miss us if we take a nap in here?" the Joxter asked, yawning.

The Muddler came back to bed, resting his head on his chest, staying close to him. "No," he said, "I don't think they will." 


End file.
